


the time it takes to learn

by timesicktrio



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, Gun Violence, M/M, Pre-Canon, Relationship Problems, but it gets kinda soft at the end i promise, its mostly just angst oops, there is a lot of arguing in this one!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27911845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timesicktrio/pseuds/timesicktrio
Summary: “mr. jacobi…”“we aren't at work,” daniel snapped. “you don’t have to call me that.”“ok, daniel,” warren replied harshly. “something is clearly bothering you, so just say it. what’s wrong?”god, the loaded question daniel had been dreading all night.what wasn’t wrong? what wasn’t bothering him?-an uncomfortable dinner between jacobi and kepler is interrupted.
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Alana Maxwell, Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	the time it takes to learn

**Author's Note:**

> this one is a lot of arguing and angst and trauma ok im so sorry im just going through it bro
> 
> warnings (includes spoilers): gun violence, gunshots, etc. there is some hospital/surgery talk but its not a lot or very explicit, trauma/therapy/anxiety attacks are discussed, sex is mentioned several times but not explicitly described!!
> 
> it's also ooc but that's ok this was a self indulgent fic also yes it is 2020 and we still out here having kepler/jacobi as our comfort characters :/

“you’ve barely touched your food.”

“oh, really?”

“yes, really. you don’t seem so good, mr. jacobi.”

“oh, don’t i?”

the meal was excruciating. daniel figured that warren was finally starting to get annoyed too, but it couldn’t possibly match the level of irritation daniel was feeling right now. it was almost overwhelming. instead of losing it right then and there, though, daniel took a deep breath and shifted his attention to the atmosphere; classical music, strangers chatting, the sound of running water, the smell of good food. honestly, the restaurant would’ve been rather impressive under different circumstances.

warren took a deep breath and placed his fork and knife back onto the table. 

“mr. jacobi…”

“we're not at work,” daniel snapped. “you don’t have to call me that.”

“ok, _daniel,”_ warren replied harshly. “something is clearly bothering you, so just say it. what’s wrong?”

god, the loaded question daniel had been dreading all night. 

what _wasn’t_ wrong? what _wasn’t_ bothering him?

for starters, this entire outing was bullshit. the nice restaurant, the extra courtesy, the _mr. jacobi._ warren knew that something was bothering him and instead of asking about it like a normal person, he was what, bribing him? trying to win him over with seafood and praise? it was bullshit, and everything about him was bullshit, and their relationship was bullshit.

and that was the second thing that was bothering him: their relationship. ever since daniel brought up the possibility of being something more than just friends with benefits— or whatever it was— warren had been a complete asshole about it. at first he laughed. and not that daniel expected anything more, but a small part of him had hoped that warren would be a little more sensitive, a little more considerate of daniel’s feelings for the first time since they met. but no, instead he laughed and said, “are you serious? this isn’t like that.” which was his way of saying _i like fucking you but i don’t actually like_ you.

sure, daniel was fine with that at first. he was more than fine with it, really. if he could please his superior _and_ get laid while doing it, it seemed like a win-win situation— especially since the risk of getting in trouble with cutter was _well_ worth the way warren handled him. but soon that wasn’t all their relationship was. it became less about satisfying an itch and more about comfort. it was about familiarity. when warren had a particularly rough day, sometimes he’d actually sit and talk about how he felt before he fucked him. sometimes they wouldn’t even have sex at all and they’d just spend hours talking on the phone. of course, warren did most of the talking, but daniel still felt like he was seeing a new side to him— a more human side

“so what is this?” daniel eventually asked. this was a night where they _had_ had sex, and they were still tangled in the sheets at daniel’s apartment.

“what do you mean?”

daniel gestured between them. “i mean this. what is this? what are we doing?”

warren narrowed his eyes at him. “we’re laying down? jacobi, i’m not following you.”

 _of course you aren’t, you’re a fucking robot,_ is what daniel wanted to say, but he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to do so. instead, he sighed, and said, “listen, i was fine with all of this when it was casual. when it was about…. having fun, or whatever. but this? i mean, look at us. we’re _laying in bed talking together._ it just seems like— i’m starting to feel like maybe this is something more. like this is the start of something else. do you get what i mean?”

daniel watched warren’s expression as he spoke and he honestly thought they were on the same page. warren seemed deep in thought, contemplative. and then he just laughed.

“wait, are you serious?” he said breathlessly. he sure knew how to be condescending, and for once, it didn’t excite daniel. “this isn’t like that. i don’t _love_ you. “

while the exchange initially upset daniel enough to kick warren out of his house— which was yet _another_ indicator that whatever they were doing was more serious than just fucking in his boss’s office— he later realized what warren had said. _i don’t love you_ . when did daniel ever say that he loved him? when did he ever imply that they were _in love?_

but daniel realized he was stupid for getting his hopes up about the idea of warren contemplating _love_ , because warren was nearly insufferable in the upcoming weeks. he started being ruder, more patronizing. well, he was always patronizing— warren practically _invented_ making others feel small— but this was different. it was _targeted._ he was hitting daniel where it hurt and, from what daniel could see, doing everything in his power to prove how little he _actually_ cared about him. he stopped telling him things. he stopped calling when he got home for the day, and he absolutely refused to talk about how he felt. he even started name-calling again, which he stopped doing at some point except for in bed. it was so fucking childish.

daniel figured two could play at that game, so he stopped meeting up with him. he stopped sending him pictures at work, stopped swinging by his office at the end of the day, stopped inviting warren over to his house over night. daniel could tell it was upsetting him, but warren continued to play it off as if he didn’t need daniel’s praise and attention to keep himself sane. daniel knew he did, though. god, daniel _knew_ he did. but warren kept the act up, trying harder and harder to push daniel away and make it seem like the last few months had meant nothing to him. it was insulting. it was pathetic. 

soon warren’s stubborn behavior started affecting daniel’s job, too. one day, cutter debriefed them about an upcoming field assignment that required daniel’s demolition skills. it was an easy enough assignment, but one that daniel was actually looking forward to.

then, all of the sudden, warren comes out of mr. cutter’s office and daniel is being pulled from the mission. “emotional volatility” was what mr. cutter cited as the reason for his removal. _emotional volatility._ warren had told mr. cutter that daniel was too emotionally unstable to take part in an assignment that was his _literally his fucking job description_ , as if it wasn’t _warren’s_ temper that was always on the verge of getting them killed.

what bothered daniel the most about it all was that warren was trying _so_ hard to pretend like he didn’t care when daniel _knew_ he did. under that smug bastard persona and heavy cologne, daniel knew that warren would lay down his life for his team in a heartbeat. daniel was sure of it. and if he didn’t care, then what the fuck were they doing? what was _this?_ as much as he hated to admit it, even this dinner was proof that warren cared. it may have been a cheap— well, maybe not _literally_ cheap, the restaurant was quite expensive— attempt to make daniel forget that he was mad at him, but it showed that warren did _care_ whether he was mad or not, he was just bad at dealing with it. maybe it wasn’t his fault, daniel thought to himself. maybe this was him trying his best.

 _no_ , daniel told himself. no, it wasn’t. he realized he was getting wrapped up in all warren’s stubbornness and selfishness and bullshit, and he couldn’t live with himself if he forgave him so quickly. sure, maybe this dinner wasn’t warren’s way of saying _i know you’re mad but shut up and get over it._ maybe it really _was_ his way of saying _maybe i’m not so good at this relationship thing and maybe i have a strange way of showing it but i do like you daniel, and i’m trying my best as a person, and i don’t want to lose us._ but it didn’t change the fact that warren had _lied_ to him. it didn’t change the fact that warren had lied to him about _alana._

“why didn’t you tell me?” daniel asked. his voice is low, accusatory. 

warren looked up from his food. “what?”

 _“_ why didn’t you tell me?”

“about what?”

“ _you know what._ ”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

warren feigned confusion, but daniel knew it was just a ruse. warren knew what he was talking about. he knew what he fucking did. no matter how much of a person warren _wasn’t_ , he _knew_ he hurt daniel and he _knew_ what he did was wrong. and if he didn’t— well, maybe that was finally proof that warren was _never_ going to be a decent human being. maybe it was proof that daniel was wasting his time.

it started the week before. daniel hadn’t heard from alana since the day before (which was also partially his fault, because he hadn’t reached out to her either) so he figured he would stop by her lab during his lunch break to chat; say hi to her, complain about his dispute with warren— the usual. but to his surprise, the lights were off and she wasn’t there. 

immediately, daniel thought it was strange. the lack of texting should have been the first red flag, but this? she never missed work. sure, she didn’t exactly _love_ it there, but she was punctual, and always in perfect health. she would never ditch unless something was wrong— and even then, she would have told him, right?

daniel was hesitant to do so, but he marched back down to warren’s office in hopes of some sort of answer. 

to be fair, he got one; it just turned out to be a massive lie.

“a solo mission?” daniel asked. “is that safe?”

“of course,” warren replied, “dr. maxwell is just conducting research at a remote AI lab in georgia for the next few weeks. nothing dangerous. not that it really concerns you, though.”

daniel thought it seemed suspicious, but there was really no way to tell; goddard _invented_ suspicious. sometimes they just sent agents on missions without giving anyone else the details about it, and they were expected to suck it up and accept it.

so daniel went about his week. he spent a lot of time at the lab, developing schematics and scheduling demolition tests— you know, your average nine to five job. it wasn’t until a week later that alana finally called.

“hey, are you back yet?” daniel answered the call. he didn’t mean to seem so eager, but between warren being exceptionally irritating that week and not really having any other friends at work, he was excited to see her. 

but she just laughed.

“no, not yet,” alana replied, “it’s still gonna be awhile before i’m back. sorry, daniel.”

“oh, it's okay,” he replied, trying to hide his disappointment. “did they extend the mission or something?”

“yeah, you could _say_ that the mission was extended,” she replied. again, laughter. daniel didn't know what was so funny, and he was starting to grow concerned about the weakness in her voice. she sounded tired, or upset, both of which were unlike her cheery, perfect self.

“hey, are you okay?” he asked. “you don’t sound so good.”

“oh, i’m great,” alana replied cheerfully. “you know, other than the whole gunshot to the chest thing.”

“the _what_?”

apparently, alana wasn’t in a remote AI lab, and was instead receiving extensive care at a hospital close to the goddard campus. she was shot. only once, and they expected her to make a full recovery, but the mental image still made daniel feel sick. blood and gore? he could deal with that. he’d been stabbed and burnt and bruised enough to not even get queasy at the sight of his _own_ blood. but his friend’s? alana’s? he didn’t exactly like to dwell on it.

thankfully, she seemed okay. the doctors said she pulled through surprisingly well after the initial surgery, and that she was recovering well. but while daniel was certainly relieved to hear that she was doing alright, his conversation with alana only made him angrier and angrier. warren had lied to him about all of this. alana was laying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound in her fucking chest, and he lied to daniel about it. alana didn’t even _know_ that daniel didn’t know. 

“i thought he told you,” she had said. “why the hell did he not tell you that i got _shot?”_

“why didn’t you tell me about alana?” daniel now asked warren from across the table. “and don’t say it’s because you _cared_ about me. you’re so full of bullshit, warren.”

warren dropped the masquerade and took a deep breath. “i didn’t tell you,” he began, “because it was—“

“strictly need to know?” daniel finished his sentence. “if you say that one more time, i swear i’m never going to speak to you again.”

there was a pause, and warren didn’t care to fill the silence with bullshit like he so often did.

“you can’t possibly think it’s _okay_ to just not tell me something like this,” daniel sighed. “she’s my best friend, okay? i don’t care about work and about ‘need to know’ bases. if she gets shot, you should’ve fucking told me, instead of letting me think she was on some solo mission for the last week.”

looking warren in the eyes only made him feel worse. he warren seemed so calm, so indifferent, like he didn’t give a shit. daniel knew he did, though, so why was he doing this? was he punishing him? was this still his stupid way of pretending that he didn’t actually like daniel like that so that they wouldn’t have to have _that_ conversation again?

initially, daniel thought that if warren talked, it might actually push him over the edge and he’d strangle him right here in the restaurant. but somehow his silence was worse.

“oh, so for the first time in _literally_ forever you don’t have something to say?” daniel asked. “i just want an explanation. why would you keep that from me?”

“i didn’t tell you,” warren began carefully, like he was walking on glass, “because it was my fault.”

“what?”

“alana got shot because of me,” he said. “i told her the coast was clear— which i _thought_ it was— and it wasn’t, and she almost died because of the call i made. i didn’t tell you because it wasn’t relevant, but also because it was my fault.”

“and let me guess,” daniel began incredulously. not _relevant_ ? how was his best friend getting shot not be _relevant_? “you were embarrassed? and you care about what i think of you?”

“of course i do, mr. jacobi.”

_snap._

“do you?” daniel began, but he realized that they were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, so he lowered his voice just enough to still make his point, “if you cared so much about what i think of you, maybe you should have— oh, i don’t know— told me about alana? maybe been a _little_ bit nicer to me this week? you acted like a child and got me kicked off of a _mission_ because _you_ couldn’t handle commitment. that’s what it is, right? a fear of commitment? and instead of facing it head-on, you make me feel like an idiot for even entertaining the idea that you _could_ commit to this.” 

“oh, and another thing,” daniel continued, “this dinner isn’t going to work. i know you’re just using it to _bribe_ me into not being mad, like i can just be won over with a fancy restaurant. i bet you didn’t even remember, did you? i bet this has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that it’s my…”

daniel trailed off as warren reached from the inside of his jacket and placed a small box and envelope on the table. the box was about the size of his fist, and the letter was labeled _daniel_ in neat handwriting across the front. 

daniel stared blankly at it.

“what is this?” he asked.

“i know this doesn’t make up for anything,” he began, “but i bought this for you a few weeks ago, and i hope it will suffice as a birthday present. happy birthday, daniel.”

part of daniel thought that this was just another tactic warren was using to win him over. it was just another bribe, like this stupid dinner, right? just a distraction from the subject at hand? but while that certainly may be true, daniel also came to a different realization:

this was proof that warren had thought of someone other than himself for once. regardless of the way he had treated him, regardless of all the stubbornness and the bullshit, he thought about daniel and cared enough to actually buy him a gift. and not only that; he remembered.

he remembered his birthday. 

“i haven’t told you my birthday since, like, the first month we met,” daniel said after a quiet moment. “how’d you even know it was today?”

“because i remember the little things about the people i like, daniel,” he replied. his voice was soft, and careful. “because, believe it or not, i actually listen when you talk. and i know it doesn’t seem like it— hell, it took me a _long_ time to realize it— but i care about you, daniel. a lot.”

“warren…”

“listen, daniel, i’m going to say something that i probably should’ve been saying to you a long time ago. okay? i…”

-

a list. that was what the therapist had told daniel, years ago. make a list. he hated her and he hated therapy and it never made him feel any better but the list thing was sort of a good idea. the list thing helped. 

number one. warren froze and his eyes widened mid-sentence. “warren—?” daniel began, but before he could finish, warren was already behind daniel, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. daniel had just enough time to think _what the hell is he doing?_ before a deafening roar erupted through the dining room. 

a gunshot.

there was a gunshot, and warren was shielding him from it.

number two. warren’s grip loosened on daniel. daniel hadn’t even realized how tightly warren had been holding on until he was slipping, stumbling to the floor. daniel, shaking, dropped to his side. 

number three. there was blood. a lot of it. again, blood didn’t bother him. but warren’s blood? horrifying. his stomach felt like it was in knots. he felt like he was going to be sick. 

number four. warren was shot. someone shot warren. daniel also had a gun. daniel had to shoot someone. (yes, he brought a gun to a dinner date with warren). 

number five. the man was so nondescript. just some guy _,_ probably sent to kill warren or him by one of their many enemies they had made over the years.

the gunman’s hands were shaking. why? why were _his_ hands shaking? he was the one who just shot a man. he was the one who had just shot warren.

number six. daniel didn’t want to think about it, even now, but he shot the gunman a lot.

 _a lot_.

number seven. daniel was suddenly back at warren’s side. some other people were there helping. daniel didn’t know how to help so he just sat there beside him, watching. the blood kept coming. it was a lot.

number eight. paramedics. cutter wasn’t particularly fond of them interacting with emergency responders, primarily because goddard futuristics gets wrapped up in some pretty illegal shit time to time, but daniel was relieved to see them. no on-the-job stitches, no pouring liquor in wounds to clean them. real medics. the cops were there, too— which daniel didn’t particularly care for— but it didn’t matter. warren was going to be taken to a hospital and he was going to receive help.

number nine: daniel went to the hospital, too. “i’m fine,” he insisted, “just help him, i’m _fine.”_ but the medics were too persistent and daniel didn’t have the will to fight them on it. looking back at it now, he wasn’t fine; he just watched warren get shot. the same warren that he spent months falling for, the same warren that treated him like he was nothing and everything all at once, the same warren that took him on some stupid birthday dinner just because he cared whether or not daniel was mad. the warren that wasn’t human, but maybe only because he had spent his life around robots and didn’t _know_ how to be human.

number ten: daniel hated warren, but he also loved warren. he loved him a lot. 

and he really didn’t wanna lose him.

-

god, it had been a long week. the majority of his time was spent in and out of the hospital during his off-hours, sitting and waiting and thinking and worrying. it was overwhelming. all of the surgeries were successful and they finally got to bring warren home, but between nearly getting killed and watching _warren_ nearly get killed… well, daniel wasn’t having the best time.

thankfully, alana was by his side the entire time. the doctors gave her permission to visit just for a few hours at a time when they were at the hospital, but she’d been hanging out with daniel all week; they’d gone down to the cafeteria together, paced down the halls and spied on other patients together, sat quietly as daniel waited patiently for warren to wake up together. she had even held his hand gently as he told her about everything. about their argument, the gunshot, the blood. about feeling so angry and so scared that he shot the gunman enough times to kill a man ten times over. maybe alana didn’t need to hear anymore about guns or gunshot wounds or nearly dying, but she listened patiently and attentively, and when he was done, she held him tight as he sobbed into her neck.

fortunately, when warren was discharged, alana was discharged as well. she was going to have to attend physical therapy and all that shit, but daniel was able to drive both of them safely back to warren’s house, where he promised the doctors he could care for them both. when they got warren onto his bed and promptly watched as he passed out, daniel and alana laid down beside him and listened to his steady breathing.

the week at the hospital was miserable, so there was comfort in being back at warren’s house, sandwiched between him and alana. it felt a little bit like things were normal again, like he was safe again.

it felt a little bit like home.

eventually, alana fell asleep too and daniel found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to. he realized that he hadn’t really thought about that night since it happened. about his argument with warren. about his feelings, or whatever. and now, staring up at the ceiling, he had more than enough time to think about it.

the first thing that daniel realized was that he didn’t feel any type of anger anymore. maybe he should— it wasn’t like all of the things warren had said and done the last few weeks were undone just because he literally took a bullet for him— but he just didn’t. he was sad. a little disappointed, maybe. but mad? the only person daniel felt mad at was himself, because he let himself get so worked up over all of these problems without actually _doing_ anything about them. when warren originally disregarded his proposal for something more, daniel didn’t stay to talk to him about it. he kicked him out in frustration and avoided the topic the following day. when warren reverted back to treating daniel as a subordinate and nothing more, daniel didn’t stand up for himself. yes, he shouldn’t retaliate against his superior officer, but _clearly_ they were more than that. daniel should have stood up for himself. he should’ve fought back harder.

and when he found out that warren lied to him about what happened to alana, daniel should’ve given him hell. but instead he just ignored it and let his anger fester until that night.

 _yes, i know_ , daniel told himself. he could practically _hear_ alana’s voice screaming back at him. he knew that he shouldn’t be angry with himself for how warren has been treating him, and he knew it wasn’t his fault that he’s been an asshole for the last few weeks. but daniel cared about him. he really, really, really cared about him. and when you care about someone, and you genuinely want to see them grow, you teach them. you stick with them through all of the bullshit and you show them what it’s like to be a person, a _human being._ maybe warren was a lost cause. maybe he wasn’t actually capable of becoming that human being. but for now, daniel didn’t care. he loved warren and he _believed_ in him. that’s what warren was always after, wasn’t it? someone believing in him? that’s why he’s so hungry for power, so thirsty for attention. he wanted someone to look up to him, someone to give him the approval he sought so desperately after. he just needed someone to believe that he could do better and— while he practically hated himself for it— that person was going to be daniel.

whether it killed him or not.

  
  


daniel woke up to find alana gone and warren still sleeping beside him. he panicked at first, but checked his phone to find a text from alana saying that she had moved to the spare room.

 **alana (3:24am):** hey don’t worry i just moved over to the guest room. there wasn’t a ton of room on kepler’s bed and i’m pretty sure that if you rolled over and pushed me off the bed it would like kill me lol

 **daniel (3:45am):** hey, are you still good?

 **alana (3:45am):** i’m good :) you just worry about warren tonight

 **alana (3:45am):** ;)

 **daniel (3:46am):** shut up

 **daniel (3:46am):** but ok 

**daniel (3:47am):** also i’m only gonna say this once over text because it’s embarrassing and i’m not good with this sort of thing in person, but thank you

 **daniel (3:47am):** i literally couldn’t have gotten through this week without you

 **alana (3:47am):** sappy, much?

 **alana (3:47am):** don’t worry i’m kidding. and i’m glad you’re okay. i’m glad kepler is okay too. i love u daniel 

**daniel (3:48am):** i love you too. now let’s go back to like vaguely hating each other or something

 **alana (3:48am):** i wouldn’t have it any other way :) <3

daniel didn’t go back to sleep after that, and instead found himself watching warren as he slept, his bare chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. daniel wanted more than anything to curl his head into his neck, wrap his arms around him tightly and never let go, but spotting the large bandage plastered to his side, daniel realized it probably wasn’t a good idea. they were both better off with daniel just watching from afar and avoiding his wound at all costs.

in the background, 1930s jazz music played softly from a cassette player. daniel didn’t recognize any of the songs that played over the next twenty minutes, but he listened attentively and let the instrumentals carry him away. warren had always loved old music. daniel always noticed it always playing in his room, in his office, in the car, wherever they went together. warren would tap his fingers along with the beat and sing softly to himself when he thought daniel was just out of earshot. it was a rare moment of humanity, daniel always thought to himself as he watched warren mouth the words as he worked. 

“‘little white lies’,” warren said suddenly from beside him, and it takes daniel a moment to realize he was referencing the song playing in the room, “fred waring and his pennsylvanians, 1930. sung by clare hanon. it’s a good song.”

“hey,” daniel said softly. the room was dark, but he could see warren’s eyes flutter open and cling onto him. “how are you feeling?”

“kind of like i just got shot in my fucking kidney, daniel,” he replied with a wince and a half-assed smile, and weakly pushed himself into a sitting position, “but good. great, actually.”

daniel had gotten to talk to warren at the hospital throughout the week, but he never quite seemed himself when he did. his voice was quiet, and his eyes were glazed over with about a dozen different painkillers. now, he was beginning to look and sound a little more like the warren kepler daniel knew; it was refreshing, and frankly, he was fucking relieved. 

“that’s good,” daniel replied. “good.”

“and how are you?” kepler asked.

“really?” daniel scoffed. “you just got shot, and you’re asking me how i’m—“

“yes, i am,” his voice was low and hoarse, and daniel shifted his position on the bed. “how are you?”

“i’m good,” he said.

“good.”

“and thanks for saving my life,” jacobi added awkwardly, “you know, taking the bullet for me and everything.”

“you’re welcome.”

“i appreciate it.”

“no problem.”

the room grew quiet, save for the music. daniel’s heart was racing.

“i hate you,” he says suddenly. there was no malice in his voice, no anger, but his words hang in the air with a weight heavier than what he was used to. it feels good, so he reiterates himself before warren can even draw in the breath to speak: “i fucking hate you.”

he fully expected warren to say something shitty like _no you don’t_ or do something stupid like try to kiss him but he didn’t do either of those. instead, warren lied still on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, breath shaky. daniel wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain in his chest or if he was upset. 

“then why are you here, daniel?” warren asked after a moment. he didn’t sound upset, but there was an eerie vulnerability to his voice.

daniel still rolled his eyes.

“what? do you want me to say that i’m here because i care about you?” he asked. 

“ _daniel_ ,” warren interrupted him. the way he said his name made daniel stop and listen. “i don’t need you to tell me that you care about me. you being here is _enough_ to tell me that you care. i’m asking you _why_ you’re here. why are you doing this? why do you still care?”

the room was dark, but daniel’s eyes had adjusted and he could finally make out the features of warren’s face. even after a week of surgeries and showers wrapped in plastic, he was stunning, so infuriatingly, intoxicatingly stunning.

daniel took a deep breath. in, out.

well, here goes nothing.

“because i love you,” daniel replied. the words sounded weird in his mouth; he’d never said them before and meant them as much as he did then. “as stupid as it sounds, i have really liked spending time with you the last year. i’ve _really_ liked getting to know you, talking to you, waking up in the morning and seeing you. i love you, alright? and i also hate you because you’ve been a fucking jerk to me the last few weeks— the last _year—_ but i see something in you that i don’t think anyone ever has and i think this has the potential to be something more than what is it right now. i love you, okay? i love you and i’m going to keep caring about you because i see you as a person even if you don’t. even if you think you can’t become one.”

daniel felt out of breath, but in a good way. it was the same sort of breathlessness that came after completing a marathon, or coming up for air after being underwater too long. it felt welcoming and relieving and like he had finally said something that left warren speechless and not the other way around. like warren was finally listening to him.

the music swelled in the background, and daniel continued as he caught his breath.

“you know,” daniel said, “alana always warned me that you were a monster. and i think she’s right but… i’m a monster, too. all three of us are monsters. we’re all horrible, shitty people who kill other horrible, shitty people for a living and we do it good. but that doesn’t mean that i can’t love you, and that doesn’t mean that i can’t teach you how to love me back.”

warren’s low, shaky breathing hitched, like he was trying to hold his breath. daniel could tell he wanted to compose himself, to formulate some sort of calculated response, but he remains quiet, thinking. daniel worries for a moment that he’s going to refute everything he just said— historically, warren tended to turn down a lot of daniel's suggestions— but instead he just sighs, and places a hand on daniel’s thigh. it’s a motion of comfort, of tenderness. when he speaks, his voice is just as gentle as his touch.

“i always thought that i had so much to teach you when you first started working for goddard,” warren started, “and believe me, i did; you could barely hold your own in a fight, you couldn’t patch up a bullet wound on the job, or act convincingly under cover. honestly, you’re probably the worst espionage agent this company has ever—“

“is there a point to this?” daniel interrupts.

“yes,” warren replies bluntly. “point is, i thought that there was nothing you could teach me that i didn’t already know. diffusing a bomb? i can do that with my eyes closed. calculating long range missile trajectories? a second grader could do that.”

“i really don’t think they could.”

“are you going to keep interrupting me?”

daniel shakes his head, and warren continues: “my _point is,_ you’ve taught me a lot. more than i ever thought possible. about loyalty, about perseverance, about how and what it means to care about someone, like me or alana. about love. about relationships. about commitment. before i met you, i was lost, daniel. and i was so used to feeling that way— lost, alone— that as soon as you said you wanted to be _something_ i didn’t know what to do. i lashed out, i lied, and you’re right; i was trying so hard to pretend that i didn’t care about you when i do. not a lot scares me, daniel, but that does. knowing that someone like you— someone that knows how to love and knows how to care— actually loves me scares me a hell of a lot.”

“i just…,” he continued, “i’m sorry. i can’t apologize enough for, well, any of this, but i want you to know that i am so, so sorry. i’m sorry for panicking, i’m sorry pretending like i didn’t want to be in a relationship when i do—“

“you do?”

“of course i do,” warren snapped, but he collects himself and reiterates calmly, “of course i do, daniel. but i’m sorry. i was being a fucking idiot the last few weeks. not telling you about maxwell? that’s unforgivable. i knew she’s your friend, and i knew that you’d want to know about it, but i still didn’t want to say anything. i was so worried about what you’d think that i didn’t stop to think how you’d feel if i hid that from you. i was wrong. okay, daniel? i was wrong. i just… i don’t know how to make this right. how can i make this right?”

daniel fights a hair trigger urge to make a joke— _oh, i know exactly how you can make this right_ — but instead takes warren’s hand in his and laces their fingers together. warren’s hand is warm against his.

“you can make this right,” daniel replied, “by growing. changing. bettering yourself. i’ve put up with you for the last year and still managed to fall in love with you, but i think you can be better. you just have to allow yourself to loosen up, stop being so afraid of things like commitment and start being afraid of other things, like, getting shot and stuff. start being _human.”_ daniel squeezes warren’s hand tightly. “and i don’t care how long it takes. i’ll be by your side the entire time.”

“do you mean it?”

“i do,” daniel nodded. “but if you lie to me about alana one more time, i will fill your house with gasoline and burn this motherfucker to the ground.”

warren smiled. “i’ll take your word for it.”

-

the sex wasn’t good. the kissing was, but warren was in too much pain to do anything spectacular, and before it could reach any sort of climax (no pun intended), daniel had a panic attack. a knot grew in his chest as he realized that the man he was kissing had almost died saving his life this week _,_ and he had to stand up and step away from warren to keep himself from passing out _._ thankfully, warren was patient; he sat calmly and talked to daniel until he was calm enough to lay down again and press his head into warren’s chest without shaking too much. daniel was embarrassed— he wasn’t used to feeling like that, shit, he _killed_ people for a living— but he realized that warren didn’t care so neither should he. besides, if there was anyone he wanted consoling him during a panic attack, it was warren. or alana, maybe, but warren being partially undressed made him just a little more appealing.

after a few minutes, daniel caught himself almost dozing off, but looked up at to find that warren was still wide awake. he runs his hand through daniel’s hair softly.

“did you ever open the gift i got you?” he asked suddenly. daniel lifted his head from his chest and his stomach dropped.

“shit,” he gasped, “i left it at the restaurant. i didn’t even think about it. i’m so sorry—“

“it’s okay,” warren reassured him, but it didn’t help. even though warren had gotten shot that night, daniel still couldn’t believe he forgot about it. daniel cursed his human brain for only being able to remember and process so much after experiencing something so traumatic.

“what was it, anyways?” daniel asked after a moment. warren didn’t care to explain during the silence, so daniel seized the opportunity to ask. he was curious, after all.

“what?”

“the gift,” daniel replied. “what was it?”

warren glanced down at daniel, and a sly smile crept across his lips. “do you really want to know?”

“well, now i _really_ wanna know,” daniel laughed.

“well,” warren replied with a grin, “i guess you’ll just have to wait until next year, won’t you?”

“next year?” daniel sputtered.

“that’s right,” warren replied smugly. “for your next birthday.”

“you bastard,” daniel shook his head. “look, usually this sort of thing wouldn’t bother me that much, but can’t you just tell me? can't you just…”

he trailed off after processing the implications of what warren had said, and found himself smiling, just a little. _next year._ warren fully intended to stick by his side until the following year, on his next birthday.

the thought both terrified daniel, and made him happier than he’d ever been before.

next year, daniel thought to himself. maybe that would be enough time.

“fine,” he told warren. “guess we’ll just have to wait then. but don’t go taking any more bullets for me, got it? we gotta _make_ it to next year, okay?”

warren smiled.

“no promises, daniel.”

-

“you were going to say it,” daniel said. it was morning by then, but they remained in bed, tucked soundly into the blankets. warren rests his chin softly on the top of daniel’s head as he rests his face on his chest. “at the restaurant, right? before you got shot?”

“what?” warren replied. “‘i love you’?”

“wow,” daniel scoffed. “you could _not_ have made that any more anti-climactic.”

warren smiles into his hair. “i love you, daniel.”

“fuck,” daniel mutters to himself, but a smile is plastered across his face. “i love you, too.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 !!!


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